Where Loyalties Lie
by Jess Angel
Summary: AU. They say we always want what we can't have. Vincent x Tifa x Sephiroth
1. Visions of Cinnamon and Scarlet

He is bound by duty  
…but not invulnerable to love.  
Somehow, she had made sure of that.

** Where Loyalties Lie  
** _Visions of Cinnamon and Scarlet  
_ by Jess Angel

**I**

The frigid night air lightly swept through strands of deep mahogany, and a soft sigh escaped cherry-red lips. The sun was long gone, and the moon hung high in the darkness. Green trees whispered sweetly overhead. And for a moment, the young girl ceased her worries to revel in the late night song, her ears charmed by the midnight rhapsody.

She smiled up at the stars in unison - the constellations bright as the twinkle in her eyes. The night was alive and breathing. Effortlessly, crickets chirped their high-pitched ballads… An owl hooted his warm greeting… The white seeds of dandelions danced free, and they chased one another in the breeze.

She was a little girl caught in another world… of nature and other enchanting things.

But soon enough, reality lay claim to her once again.

The air became a cold burden upon her skin, and a gust of wind rustled her lavender skirts. Tifa Lockheart sighed once more and then proceeded walking. _Papa will be very angry with me ._She looked down at the purple cloth that swirled about her delicate feet.

The pixie-faced girl had been out playing with friends, and in her childish merriment, she had forgotten time and all its confinements. Hers was a free spirit, a constant source of both delight and worry in the heart of her widowed father. But all Tifa really longed to do was please him, being an only child with few living relatives.

Since the death of his wife, Tifa Lockheart's father had suffered an intense grief, and Tifa, though young, had noticed and did not wish to add to his burdens. So she did what one her age could do to help them both manage. She endeavored to be a happy child of smiles and laughs who caused few concerns and little stress for her papa.

The small brunette hoped he wouldn't be too upset with her tardiness.

As a familiar brown and green giant came into view, Tifa knew she was nearly home. The drooping leaves of an old willow swayed gently with the west winds, and despite her hurry, she had to pause to take in the wonder of it. The weeping willow had always been a mesmerizing but haunting vision, and she remembered her mother's melodic voice telling her it was emblem of great sadness. After encountering the mournful-looking tree in person, the little girl had readily agreed. Whenever she passed, Tifa couldn't help but think it was still beautiful though seen as a symbol of deep anguish.

A sudden gasp emitted from the girl's tiny lips. Her pulse quickened in fear at the sight of a lone shadow beyond the pendulous branches. The instinct to run was strong… but the magnetism of something else was even stronger.

Instead of backing away and sprinting home in fright, Tifa felt herself drawn forward, weaving her body through the hanging green leaves.

* * *

_Demon child! Demon child!_

_…Look at his eyes! …No, don't! He'll cast an evil spell on you! …He probably works for the Devil. …Don't ask him to play! …He's the one that killed his own mother! …Don't touch him! He's a monster! …Demon… devil…_

He would not cry. His eyes were parched - spent all on her. Tears for a mother he had never known. It seemed his heart had sworn an unspoken vow. He cried for no one but her. She was worthy of them. Why cry for them when they didn't care? Foolish. Why cry for himself when he was not worthy? It would be a waste. After all, he was the one who had taken her from this world. He was the cause, the reason. They were right.

He _was _a demon.

_One look at him and it's plain to see_, they said. He couldn't be normal. _He can't be._

After hearing it over and over, it wasn't so hard to believe. Words were one thing, but when coupled with actions… He slowly began to agree.

It was true that no other eye had dare met his without some unease or uncomfortable shifting. Afterwards, most would shy away – detached mentally, physically, emotionally – all except those left in his small family. But the damage was done, and he was drifting. As they recoiled, he echoed them, retreating in each sense they had. And in a way, in that isolation, he found release. Lonely…

But what is loneliness when the suffocation of their fear was eased?

* * *

Tifa exhaled softly. It appeared the figure was no phantom at all. It was just a boy. Yet his presence seemed haunted. He looked like he belonged there - beneath moon rays of the night, staring out at a black expanse of water… the weeping willow, his only companion.

The small brunette stared at his back taking in what she could of his appearance. He was thin, but not unhealthy, with skin that looked like it had never felt the touch of the sun. His raven hair wasn't extremely long, but if undone from the little ponytail, she imagined it would barely brush his shoulders. He was certainly older, his height being obvious evidence; and from his clothing, she gathered he was close to her station, graced with enough wealth to keep from starving but not enough to spend freely on the unnecessary.

Instantly, Tifa realized she wanted to know this boy standing alone by the willow tree. It was more than curiosity that fed her interest in this real apparition. She wished to know his troubles and soothe his hurts, like she did her papa's and those of the hungry children she met and played with on the streets. And there was something else. Another sensation, one nameless and beyond sympathy. It tugged at her soul insistently. His aura emanated a pain so crushing, Tifa's hand pulled to her chest as if the emotions within him were her own.

What was causing him such suffering?

Lightly, her bare feet began to pad across the fresh grass that lay in-between them. She would ask him… meet him… and maybe, she would know.

* * *

"Why are you sad?" an angelic voice surprised him from behind.

Vincent stopped himself from turning to the sound by reflex. It had been awhile since anyone had had the courage to approach him - few wanted to. The girl must've not known who he was.

It had been so long since he had talked to anyone beside his brother or father. If only for a moment, he craved the voice of another, a friend. _'Just this once,' _he told himself, his want and need coinciding. "My mother… I was thinking of her."

Vincent kept himself facing forward. He didn't want to turn around for she would see _them_. And he didn't want her to be frightened like the others.

"Oh," the girl quietly answered. "Your mother?"

Her voice sounded younger than his nine years, with its ring of child-like innocence.

"I," he paused. "I miss her."

* * *

The tone in his voice stirred something within Tifa, and she felt the strings of a kind of kinship draw her closer. It was a bond not too unlike the one she shared with her father - but, it was still one she had yet to taste. "Is she… gone?"

He took another moment to answer. "I never got to say goodbye."

Then she understood… "I never got to either."

Without warning, Tifa was swallowed whole into crimson seas; eyes of devastating scarlet arrested her own.

The girl's eyes were the color of cinnamon played upon with burgundy.

Vincent responded almost whispering, his voice tainted with a strange wonder, "You're like me…?" Involuntarily, his hand reached out as if to touch the surface of a painting. Her eyes weren't nearly as alarming as his, but there was a comfort in the slight similarity.

Abruptly, the boy dropped his hand, aware of his trance-like reverie.

"Like you?" Tifa smiled unexpectedly, if not also a little shyly. There seemed a deeper meaning to his words, and though she had yet to grasp it, the recognition was there, and it warmed her inwardly.

The girl's expression saddened somewhat as she remembered of what they had been speaking. "My momma … She died last winter." She glanced down at her toes. "She was very sick. She closed her eyes before… I could… " Her shoulders gently heaved. "Was your momma sick too?"

Vincent let his gaze tilt away. But of course, she wasn't like him. She was purity and innocence. He was none of those things. He was a killer, an abomination. The demon child. He was nothing like the cherub standing unflinching before him. "No… I hurt her."

Vincent winced when her head jerked to look at him.

How easy it could've been to lie. But even at the mere thought of deceiving her, the boy felt his stomach twist. Vincent was only able to tell her the truth. "She died at my birth. It was all… my fault." He swallowed the lump blocking his throat. "I should have never…"

His hand gathered into a tight fist. He had been unable to finish aloud. _…been born. _Vincent found her eyes again, determined to face her - waiting for her to hate him. He was almost completely numb anyhow. What more could one girl possibly do?

_No…_

He watched in fascination as she lowered her head, shaking it from side to side, as if in confusion.

_No._

Then… starlight was falling. Like pearls of wet light they descended, dropping to the ground and sliding off her cheeks. Like dewdrops they became - clinging to blades of cold grass like it was early morning.

Her cry finally came. "No! It's not your fault!" Before he knew what happened, she was crushed against him. "It's not!" A wet porcelain cheek lay against the cloth of his stomach. "She died, but it's not your fault!"

In shock, Vincent was unable to respond. His arms hung stationary at his sides, and his mouth parted to speak, but not a word was uttered.

_She died… but it wasn't his fault._

It couldn't be true…

_She died, but it's not your fault!_

Could it?

_It's not!_

He looked at the girl wrapped around him.

_She wouldn't lie._

Though still stunned, Vincent dared his arms to move.

Shakily, the limbs lifted… then finally touched her back in acceptance.

* * *

Two children sat shoulder to shoulder. Their eyes fixed on a dark lake rippled with moonshine while a quiet conversation took place between them.

"You never saw her?" Tifa's finger absently traced patterns on the cloth pulled over her knees.

"I… My father draws things. …He painted her sometimes." Vincent eyes trailed up to the stars. "I've seen her."

She smiled a little then looked at him sideways. Hesitantly, she asked, "Do you look like her?"

"No," he answered curtly. Vincent's gaze fell to the ground, and then he continued more softly, "She was beautiful…" He suddenly pinned his eyes on her, a curious expression on his face. "A beautiful _woman_."

_What—_The little girl's eyes widened.

"Well, my papa always says I looked like my momma," Tifa hastily added, hoping she had not offended him. She had not meant he looked like a lady!

Vincent inwardly chuckled. She was fun to tease. The young boy tilted his head thoughtfully, his keen red eyes silently studying her. He almost smiled at her discomfort. "Then she must have been beautiful too."

The rose in her cheeks deepened.

Vincent took in her appearance again. "How many years are you? …I am nine now."

"I'll be six soon!" she told him with obvious joy and pride. "And Papa told me he'll throw a big celebration!"

He laughed a little at her infectious excitement then nodded.

"You'll come won't you, Vincent? To the celebration?" She turned towards him, a hand pressed upon the ground. "Papa said I could invite all my friends!"

He doubted he would be able to find her, but nodded anyway. He would always remember her - his first real friend.

"Tifa! Tifa, are you out there?"

"Papa?" The little brunette jumped to her feet, looking past the tree. "Papa! I'm here, Papa!"

"Tifa…? Where have you been, sweetling? Come, let's go home. It's late, and you had me worried, little one." The man motioned her towards him.

"Coming, Papa!"

Tifa turned back to her companion, who had also risen to his feet, and gave him a bright smile. Then her short and slender arms encircled Vincent in a second embrace, leaving him speechless again. "Goodbye, friend Vincent!" She began to skip away. "…Goodbye!" Tifa left him with one last wave.

Vincent ran up behind the weeping willow to watch as she jumped up into her father's arms. She giggled in delight as he swung her about for a short moment. "Goodbye…"

As her papa carried her home, Tifa caught sight of a red glow emitting by the trunk of the large willow. She grinned impishly before blowing a kiss in Vincent's direction.

And for once in a long time, the dark-haired boy allowed himself a smile. "…friend Tifa."

* * *

**Author's Note:** This is a complete _alternate universe_ so some character tweaking has (ex. ages) and may be done. Nothing too drastic personality-wise... I hope. This particular story has nothing to do with the plot of the game. The characters are in a world of my own making. Scary, isn't it? And yes, this will center around a love triangle featuring Vincent, Tifa, and Sephiroth. Crazy, I know. Thus the AU-ness.

I've changed this note a bit because I've heard from some readers, and after giving it some long thought, I've decided to continue it. So, this'll be more than a two-parter. I'm having fun writing it, plus it's been helping me whenever I get stuck on other fics. Updates for this will be slow, but I hope you'll be willing to stick with it. Maybe even like it...?

**Warnings: **(Future Content) Strong PG-13. Language. Writing may be on the sensual side at times. Nothing too risqué, I believe, but it may have an edge. I haven't gotten that far into it so we'll see what flows from my fingertips.

"Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot wash it away.  
If one were to give all the wealth of his house for love,  
it would be utterly scorned."  
Song of Songs 8:7

Final Fantasy VII and its characters © Square-Enix, Inc.


	2. Fascination

He is bound by duty  
…but not invulnerable to love.  
Somehow, she had made sure of that.

**Where Loyalties Lie  
** _Fascination  
_ by Jess Angel

**II**

A solid arm in white velvet lay stationary on an armrest of cool ivory. Long, masculine fingers of the appendage, however, were not idle as they caressed vibrant jewels embedded on the end. A thumb flicked over a particular area where a precious ruby slept. The seated man shifted his gaze away from a corner of the room to the messenger bent low before him.

"Reno and Zack have arrived, my lord."

"Alone?" An edge in his voice made itself known. His eyes narrowed at the harbinger. Had she refused again? Undoubtedly, she was a spirited and independent creature, but he could be just as stubborn. He hated ventures that returned fruitless, and this prize he desired high above the rest. No gold or silver, food or drink could sate his hunger for this.

"Nay. The maiden is with them."

His fingers went still. "Excellent." Eyes of molten jade fixed upon the entry behind the servant. "Let them in."

There was a sharp nod, "My lord."

_So, we finally meet…_

High-walled doors inlaid with gold slowly crawled forward.

_My Queen._

* * *

A young brunette felt her heart quicken with both excitement and dread. _I can't believe I'm actually doing this. _She surveyed the finery around her, absorbed in all the splendor.

The maiden was finally accepting the offer that had been made to her several times since the death of her beloved father. Tifa Lockheart was accepting to live in the castle - the very home of the king. It was an incredible thought to think. The young woman had refused a number of times already, but the king had been awfully persistent. She imagined it had a lot to do with the fact that her papa had saved the king's own departed father many years ago. Her well-being and the securing of it were most likely seen as a kind of 'debt' for her father's act of kindness.

Tifa had been extremely reluctant to accept such charity, but with no other relatives to turn to, what else could she do? After the continual repetition of the offer and having time for additional thought, Tifa realized she couldn't possibly live on her own. It would be very difficult for her to support herself, not to mention improper. As a child, she didn't mind bending the rules now and then to her tomboyish whims, but now that her father was gone and she was grown - Tifa would not disgrace her father and his memory in any manner if she could avoid it.

"Ready, princess?"

Tifa smiled at the man holding her arm. He had wild black hair and sapphire blue eyes that twinkled back at her whenever he unleashed that boyish grin of his. A trademark, she was sure. For one of the king's personal royal guards, he was more carefree than she would have expected. He had an open air about him that surprised her, and Tifa was glad for that because it made her less uneasy about entering this new situation. Thankfully, he was also quite the gentleman, unlike that _other _guard.

She glanced over at the man on her left and tried not to glare. _Cheeky redhead. _He wasn't at all what she expected as a royal guard either. Tifa gasped in outrage as someone pinched her backside. "Reno!"

_Speak of the devil._

"I saw that look, you sweet wench you."

Tifa rolled her eyes at the suggestive lift of his eyebrows.

"Hey, would you quit flirting? She obviously doesn't like you. Didn't you get that the first time around?" Zack replied, amusement evident in his tone.

"Not a chance, Zacky boy. You get to. I get to," the redhead answered, choosing to ignore the last question.

"I wasn't flirting, Reno. It's called respect." He looked across at his comrade. "Want me to spell it out for you? R-e-s-"

The redhead cut into the spelling lesson. "Tch. And what exactly do you call that 'princess' line of yours?"

Zack grinned a little then lifted a shoulder. "Okay, so maybe I was flirting a little." He winked at the blushing girl. "But it's just nickname." The dark-haired man lifted an eyebrow. "You know what those are right? They are names-"

"Jackass."

"Ah, so you've figured out one of yours."

The redhead gave the other a pointed look. "Ha ha."

Tifa finally let out a chuckle at their banter.

"Well, what do you know? Looks like you finally succeeded in doing something besides incurring this fair maiden's wrath, Reno." He paused. "No wait… I believe it was I who made her laugh." He sighed, sounding disappointed. "Oh well."

"You're about two steps and ten seconds away from incurring my wrath, Zacky."

"Like you could take me." Zack lifted a hand to his chin in a mockingly thoughtful pose. "If I remember correctly, I swept the ground with your carcass last training session."

"A one-night stand with Lady Luck." The red-haired guard shrugged. "Can't fault her for taking pity on your sorry ass."

Before the guard could reply, an envoy appeared in front of the trio. "His majesty will see you now."

Zack felt the pressure increase on his forearm. "Hey," he soothed the woman attached to his arm. "No worries, Miss Tifa. His Majesty is… intense, but he's a fair man. You're one of his subjects. He'll make sure all your needs are taken care of."

Tifa loosened her grip slightly then nodded. "I know. I'm just a little nervous. I haven't had a lot of experience with royalty before." She tugged at the skirt of her tan-colored dress. "Once, I met the former king when he came to visit my father, but then I was still very young."

The dark-haired man nodded his understanding. "Just be your sweet, pretty self and I'm sure everything will go over without a hitch." He gave her another dazzling smile. "Look at me and Reno. We're practically in love with you already."

Tifa could only shake her head at the guard and laugh at his flattery.

* * *

Tifa Lockheart dipped into a respectful curtsey before her king. She then straightened to her full height, her eyes slowly raising to those before her. And it was not the king she first saw. Instead, her curious gaze had wandered to the guard at his left.

He was a handsome man, to be sure, with fine dark hair and bottomless onyx eyes. But there was something else in his face that made her heartbeat quicken - a sense of the familiar. Yet Tifa was sure she had never seen the man before this moment. When his dark eyes met hers, she moved her observation to the man whose presence couldn't be denied.

The king.

On a throne of ivory he sat, a man with silver hair, seemingly spun from moonlight. His eyes were hard, piercing emeralds that commanded her attention to him. Undeniable power waved from his form, and a strong, regal face branded his royalty. He was very much a grown man but the edges of youth still lingered on him. He looked more like an ice prince on his white throne than an aged king.

What was that word Zack had used to describe him again?

…Ah, yes. Intense.

And he was.

Tifa flushed pink at the appraisal those green eyes were giving her. She felt very plain in this place of luxury. And she didn't have an ounce of nobility in her blood, permitting her to be there either. Her father had been a common blacksmith, while her mother had only been a farmer's daughter. Who was she to a king?

Tifa stilled her hand before it could fidget with her skirts. She had no need to fear, she reminded herself. The king was fair, Zack had said. He would not judge or disrespect her based on her simple garb or station. After all, he had persistently offered her shelter at the palace. And although his reign was scarcely over three years, the people were growing to respect and admire him as they had his father.

Everything would be fine.

She was sure of it.

* * *

_Lovely._

The silver-haired man contented himself with observing the woman before him. This was the radiant, young maiden he had spied in the streets of the marketplace many a time under the hood of his cloak - the daughter of his father's savior long ago.

Though certainly very beautiful, she wasn't striking. He had seen hundreds of exquisite women in his brief twenty-five years, but this maiden was something extraordinary. She wasn't beauty glaring for recognition but rather beauty glowing like the gentle smile of the sun. There was a tenderness and fire in her eyes that was rare as well as appealing. She was strong of will and character, yet her being remained embracing warmth and friendliness.

He imagined her education must have suffered due to her station in life, but she had her wits about her. A sharpness in her gaze was evidence. She was no gushing child. …Naïve in some ways, she may still be, but that was hardly detracting.

A halo of chestnut hair flowed freely down her back, brushing the curve of her hip while her eyes… They were cinnamon brown speckled with ruby-colored depths. _Strange._They reminded him of… Sephiroth shook his mind from the thought, an odd feeling of dislike encumbering him. There was no need to dwell on such a thing. The likeness was only slight - trivial. The man continued on with his examination. But a notice had been made.

Her figure was shapely and slim. However, she was not disgustingly thin, Sephiroth marked; many women of high court seemed to favor that unhealthy look. She was… _Delicate_, he established. _But not annoyingly frail_. The king finally nodded his acknowledgement to the young woman. "Welcome, Lady Lockheart."

He allowed an amused half-smile at her confused expression. "From now on, that is how you shall be addressed. The title is yours." He lowered his gaze. "It is in my power."

She bowed her head, somewhat taken aback. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

"Zachary. Reno."

The two men inclined their heads towards their ruler.

The dark-eyed guard, Tseng, raised an eyebrow at the redhead.

"He stole a kiss," Zack answered, spotting the man's look.

Reno rubbed the still visible pink imprint on his cheek and smirked. "No regrets."

Tifa bit her lip to hold back a reply.

Sephiroth ignored the comment, aware of his guard's 'habits' and watched with a little disappointment as the maiden's eyes moved to his right. To his other guard, of course. No matter. She seemed to like taking in everything around her. This _was _her first visit to the palace. Her keen interest in life was refreshing… charming even. She must've been a curious little one in her childhood.

He would've liked to see her then. A delightful nymph with chocolate-colored tresses, his mind's eye conjured. It would've been a wonder to see her blossom… capture her essence in her earliest days. A minute in her presence then, what he wouldn't give for a moment of it. A sample of her beginnings… of her past…

The guard on the king's right felt his fingers twitch in recollection.

Then, a pair of rose-petal lips parted unexpectedly.

"Vincent!"

* * *

**Author's Note:** Once again for clarification, this is an _alternate universe_. It has nothing to do with the plot of the game. The characters are in a world of my creation. Frightening, I know. Just look at the bizarre triangle. Anyway, I'd like to thank everyone for the input on this story. The readers have spoken, and the authoress have given it some serious thought. It shall be continued! (Insert evil laughter here) Comments and constructive criticism adored always.

Character List

_Maiden_: Tifa

_King_: Sephiroth

_Royal Guard_: Vincent, Tseng, Zack, & Reno

_King's Father_ : Deceased. Not Hojo. (In case you were wondering)


End file.
